


The Ichor Estate

by Omnidraconia



Category: Original Work, The Ichor Estate
Genre: Blood, Blood and Violence, Fish out of Water, Gen, Horror, Macabre, Original Character(s), Original Fiction, Psychological Horror, it's not that bad but it's intended to be unnerving, tags will be updated as i work on this, these themes might get worse as the story progresses
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:47:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27300691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Omnidraconia/pseuds/Omnidraconia
Summary: The estate is a getaway from reality. However, the estate is rundown and prone to violence. Sure, it’s a place to escape from reality, but it is not exactly a GOOD place to escape to. But Merigold finds himself here anyhow, eh? Things aren't right... Macabre original story of a person trapped in a realm they aren't familiar with, surrounded by (probably) insane people. Merigold finds he becomes more unstable as time passes and he loses his wits. What will come of him and the estate?
Kudos: 2





	The Ichor Estate

**Author's Note:**

> just to be clear, Merigold (our protagonist) uses any pronouns. I try not to write the gore too explicitly in this story, but there is violence and bloodshed. Take it as you may.

Walking. All he last remembered was _walking_ …. walking down a narrow shadow-drenched pathway that seemed to stretch on forever. His feet compelled forward as if they were dragged on by strings. Chills threaded down his spine but there was no fear buried in him. 

Where is he? Who is he?

He _would_ say he had no memories. But he felt less like he had no memories to remember and more like no way to remember them. His heart told him to keep walking as if his thoughts never knew to be uncertain. If he had a name, it was lost for now. 

The forever ended, greeted next by an iron gate. There was a carved-iron logo on it, of a skull with a flower in it. Through the rust, she read the fading words. _The Ichor Estate?_ Well, at least she could _read._ The phrase was wholly unfamiliar, anyhow. The wind blew an unsuspecting gust and the gates creaked open with a sound older than sin. 

Without thought, the visitor entered. Another pathway, he noted. At least this pathway is surrounded by hedges and trimmings, overgrown plants sagging in odd shapes and hues in the moonlight. Headstones speared through the ground, many unmarked by text but marred by wear. The gravel whined under his footsteps as he approached the focus of his sight…

A mansion. A grand one, at that. The imposing stature of the building glared down onto him. The moon cast the building in its shadow, the wooden framing outlined by pale light. In a sense, the estate seemed inhuman, extra rooms and walls fragmenting outwards as they defied gravity and clung to the base infrastructure. The paint was a crispy black, aged with time as the crusting could be seen from the ground. There was a lot to take in… webs, arrows, cracked glass, roof tiles, orange lights, blood…

Blood? Now that it came to mind, bloodstains were dotted through the entire area. So the smell of iron wasn’t just his imagination…? He decided he didn’t want to dawdle any further and padded to the giant front doors. 

With a familiar creak and cold touch, he entered. What seemed to be an entrance lobby was horrifically tiny compared to the grand stature of the entire acre. The only sign of life was the flickering of candlelight dripping from the walls. There was a bell on the front desk, and he felt the compulsion to press it. 

The bell rang as expected, the pitch echoing off the walls and through the core of the structure. Quick footsteps accented by heel clicks approached the visitor. 

“Apologies for not being at the desk. I take it you’re here to visit the estate?” A voice curled its fingers around the corner and out came a black and white dressed figure. The most notable thing was his large black hat, draped in webs of greyscale fabric. A warm pink flower sat comfortably on the brim. The only feature of his face that could be seen is his dark skin and small smile.

Another person. The visitor felt glued to the floorboards, unsure of how to process any kind of reply to this figure that just approached.

Despite the visitor being a deer in headlights, the hatted figure was unphased. “Do you have a name?”

“...”

“No name? That’s typical around here. Your hair color reminds me of the pot of marigolds I have in the grand dining room you know,” he said, musing to himself. 

All at once there was a sharp realization that they are still _mortal_. How did that get past them? Fear flooded back into mind as they noticed their blood pumping in his neck for the first time. Was their tongue always this dry…? They looked at their hand, thumb tracing out the wrinkles and creases of their palm. The average person would confidently call themself ‘human’ but he suddenly wasn’t the type for confidence. 

He brushed his fingers through his short locks. _Merigold,_ huh? He realized he had no clue how he actually _looked_. All he knew was his clothes were ragged and stitched together pieces of autumn colored fabric. He looked like he rolled through dirt and hellfire in some places. 

Well, he had to learn about this place first and foremost. “Merigold” swallowed air and spoke his first new words. “Where am I?”

“Did you not read the sign? I suppose it’s getting old… This is the Ichor Estate, an escape from reality.” The figure replied, running his own gloved fingers through the webbing of fabric on his hat. His eyes were fully obscured in the dark veil but Merigold could _feel_ the attention put on him.

Merigold’s brain started to turn it’s cogs slowly. “I don’t remember coming here or why.” 

“That’s also typical. I can say confidently that even if you don’t remember anything, you came here for a reason.” The figure said gently, Merigold shuddering. Maybe Merigold did something in a past life to merit some kind of eternal punishment. 

Though, this place didn’t exactly seem like hell. Not yet, anyhow. Heaven didn’t feel like a bloodstained mansion nightmare, did it?

“My name is Ichor, and this is my humble estate,” The figure continued, bowing formally. His black tail swung forward in a smooth movement, accenting his grace. The barbs on his tail looked sharp. “May I show you to a room? You look exhausted. You process things much better after a bit of relaxation.”

Ichor pulled a lantern from his hipbelt and motioned to the hallway behind him. Merigold’s heart was pressing against his chest, but he nodded. He wouldn’t want to risk _upsetting_ this man, especially since he owned the place. Ownership meant some kind of power. 

So down the hallways and up the stairs they went. The mansion was quiet like a graveyard, the whining of gusts through unstable wooden walls passing through Merigold. The floor ached with age under each step. Each hallway looked identical and equally as claustrophobic as the rest. Candles and lanterns dimly lit the space, but they were spaced well enough that you couldn’t see too far ahead (or behind) of oneself. The shadows squirmed under Ichor’s light, invisible glares digging into the two.

Ahead, a distant voice echoed through the repeating hallway. 

“I swear, his outbursts are going to get everyone one day,” it said, followed by a sickened cough. From the darkness hobbled a cloaked man with a fall-colored mane and bloodstains from head to toe. He didn’t seem to mind his ghastly appearance and smell, though. He carried a sopping red rag in one hand and a bucket with a distasteful color in the other. It looked like under the red stains he wore a lab coat and a dried out sweater.

Ichor was unperturbed, tilting his head and asking, “Did something happen, Plague?” Merigold wondered for a moment if everyone is named after an object. Rite of passage, perhaps…?

“What do you expect with these stains? Our most recent visitor decided to pay Bloodbath a visit. You can fill in the rest,” he said, voice raggedy as if he had a sore throat. “The library hallway is still a mess, but the guest’s room is already clean.” 

“Ah… I really should use the neighboring room to the library for something else…” Ichor said to no one in particular. Merigold peered into the ill man’s face, his iris dyed in a dead hue. 

“Well, if that room is available now, assuming you’ll listen to me, you should be fine.” Ichor said lightly to Merigold, giving a genuine smile to his newest housemate. The innocent emotion had Merigold’s stomach dropping. 

The man named Plague passed the two, his sneeze audible even from a distance. Merigold’s lip quivered, unsure on how to process the whole situation. Bloodbath? Is that a name or an event? 

“Who-”

“If you’re asking about Bloodbath, he’s one of our permanent residents living at the estate. He has…” hesitation. “...a violent hunger that's difficult to control,” Ichor finished. 

“Why keep him here if he’s dangerous?” Merigold asked. It was simply illogical, right? He was a threat, and a repeated one at that. Merigold felt a chill at the thought of being the next visitor he targets.

Merigold was unpleasantly met by a chuckle. “He’s a part of the family, he’s been here for ages. He’s not that bad,” Ichor stated plainly like having a violent creature aboard was commonplace. Merigold had a lot more to learn about how this place works before deciding what to do about his own existence.

The hallway ended at a corner that pivoted to another hallway. No surprise. But this hallway held a larger door than the rest, with an off center sign labeled “LIBRARY” sitting pretty. The door itself was not of immediate focus, however. 

The fresh blood pooling from under it was. The stench was unbearable, causing Merigold to gag. The red liquid was streaked about by footsteps and what looks like an attempt to wipe it up. Maybe the janitor from earlier was trying to fix the mess? 

Ichor sighed, the end of his tail giving an obscure twitch. “I can admit he’s a handful from time to time, though. He has a lot of _problems_ ,” Ichor said, weight put on his final word. 

“Bloodbath lives here, in the library. He adores reading, it’s the only thing he does other than eat. Bloodbath doesn’t come out of that space unless he’s safe, so don’t bother him and he won’t gore you, ok?” A laugh came from Ichor’s form, Merigold only viewing his back. She didn’t enjoy the idea of him smiling.

Ichor angled his foot up, where a bit of the blood grabbed on. Merigold felt sick at the idea of this being normal. She felt sicker at the idea of her neighbor being like _this_. “How rancid… I’ll get Plague to finish this mess before tomorrow morning. Do you enjoy lime? Plague always sprays things with his lime flavored cleaner,” idled the lantern-holder, attempting to distract Merigold from the sight. He stepped a wide angle around the library entrance and came to a completely normal door right next to the mess. 

Ichor chuckled again. “You’re the quiet type, aren’t you? Well, here’s your room. I take it the room should suffice for at least tonight? I was to offer you another room but it’s in a more tasteless part of the mansion…”

Ichor opened the door before Merigold could process what “tasteless” could mean by the bloodblind house owner’s standards.

The room was small… a bed crammed next to a desk and dresser. The window was finely paneled and laced with cast iron and cracks. A cobweb’s shadow flickered under Ichor’s lantern. Despite the quiet appearance, the room smelt of blood.

Everything smells of blood, actually. At least the sheets _looked_ clean. Graciousness forgive if she caught some kind of illness. 

“Sleep well, alright? Enjoy your stay. Feel free to go where you want and do what you want, within reason.” Merigold couldn’t see the housekeeper’s eyes, but they had a feeling he was eyeing up the library door. 

Dreary eyed and tired, Merigold sat on the surface of the dusty bed sheets as the door shut. Her entire being felt drained. No clue where she is, where to go, her real name… none of it was familiar anymore. It felt like a prison of a vacation resort. It goes without saying that she felt unsafe here. Who could she trust? And _why_ did she come here? What was she up to?

The words Ichor said earlier hummed in her mind. _‘You came here for a reason’..._ This didn’t feel like real life, but it didn’t feel like death either. It was some sort of purgatory, maybe. Right now, one word sat in her heart.

_Escape._

She’d try to find a way out tomorrow. She didn’t belong and she didn’t want to. If the strange folks here were normal, she didn’t want to become a piece of it. Not without trying to get her foot in the backdoor, anyhow.

The gloomy silence of her violent room-neighbor kept Merigold awake all night.

**Author's Note:**

> if you want to know what these characters look like,   
> [ you can click here.](https://i.imgur.com/4RfYiry.png)


End file.
